


Determination

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M, Hurt Q, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, determined James Bond, hints of PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-21 13:54:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14286357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: James liked movie funerals. Other than the fact that they were for fictional people, they always happened on rainy days, everyone held each other as they quietly sobbed under their all-black umbrellas while an elderly priest calmly read from his holy book and, most importantly, no bloody birds were chirping in the background to remind everyone that the world didn’t simply stopped just because someone died. But real funerals? Hate wasn’t a strong enough word to convey what he felt for those.





	1. Funeral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tsuyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuyu/gifts).



> Overly-long, overly-late birthday gift inspired by the kill/resurrect 00Q Cafe event.
> 
> Story is complete, but I'll post it in chapters because it's too long.

James liked movie funerals. Other than the fact that they were for fictional people, they always happened on rainy days, everyone held each other as they quietly sobbed under their all-black umbrellas while an elderly priest calmly read from his holy book and, most importantly, no bloody birds were chirping in the background to remind everyone that the world didn’t simply stopped just because someone died. But real funerals? Hate wasn’t a strong enough word to convey what he felt for those.

 

The weather was almost always perfect for a day at the beach, someone always squeaked more than sobbed, the priest was a young bumbling buffoon who muttered apologies under his breath while looking for the right prayer or rite or whatever, shutting up birds with knives or guns was more than frowned upon, and he was stuck feeling powerless while being one of the six double oh agents who acted as pallbearers for someone who should have been stuck behind a teaching desk at MIT or something instead of deep down in the bowls of  MI6, babysitting a bunch of dangerous killers who had no respect for the fruits of his labour.

 

“Keep it steady,” Alec breathed between gritted teeth by his side. “Empty or not, this coffin deserves all the respect.”

 

“This coffin deserves to be thrown on fire with whoever did this still alive and mostly well still in it,” James growled, his grip tightening so hard on the coffin’s handle that he heard something crack.

 

“Q put a backup in his will for you in case you were a no show, dead, or too busy being drunk to be able to walk in a straight line,” 009 muttered from behind him, filling James with even more rage, “so if you can’t stop being an uncaring diva for five minutes, tell us so 005 can take your place.”

 

Only Q would be crazy enough to have such a specific will at the age of thirty-two. “He didn’t put in there anything about me not being allowed to punch the living daylights out of you and then stuff you in the ground, right under his coffin and since I’m feeling a lot of pent up anger that I won’t get rid of even if I drank every last drop of alcohol in existence and outdo every porn star’s records combined when it comes to bed partners, please continue to run your mouth off and give me a reason to get rid of your annoying, brownnosing self,” James threatened, aware of how hard Q’s little puffy-eyed minions were glaring at him – he always thought they had supernatural hearing since whenever Q muttered under his breath when it was just the two of them in the room that he needed something, a nameless letter of the alphabet appeared out of nowhere caring said object.

 

Alec snorted, shaking his head. “If we actually had his body in this coffin, it would probably do endless 360’s in it because you two can’t even get along long enough to bury him.”

 

Q would have showered Alec with the best of his inventions for this mature act that he was pulling, but all James wanted to do was booze him up so he could get him back on his side against the goody two shoes 009. Still, despite what was being said about him, James had enough of a brain to hold back from shoving one of the many flasks he had hidden in his jacket in Alec’s mouth in the middle of a funeral – though, picturing Q giving him one of those hard, disapproving glares of his that weren’t followed by a dumb pun also had a strong say in his determination to keep himself from doing something dumb.

 

“He knew what to expect when he set things up like this and I can’t say that it doesn’t make things easier for me,” 009 admitted in a whisper, the casket sagging a little as his shoulders slumped. “It lets me pretend that _this_ isn’t really happening and that Q is simply punishing us for letting our egos—”

 

“I don’t have an ego,” James snapped.

 

“Yes you do, so stop interrupting me,” 009 snapped back, snorting. “Let’s face it; Q knew us and just wanted to make this horrid affair as nice as humanly possible.”

 

Today was a real horrible day. The sun was out, flowers were blooming, he could already make out the less than impressive headstone – he’d talk to M about changing it since Q deserved nothing less than the best marble that money could buy – Alec was the one with common sense, 009 had a point and proved he truly knew Q, and he was in the wrong and forced to carry Q’s coffin to a deep, cold hole in the ground and prepare himself to meet his new Quartermaster because like the moron he was he forgot that, from a young age, he had only truly felt alive when he was ruining convoluted plots made by crazy, greedy people who wanted to harm the world’s innocents.

 

When he felt everyone stopping, he refused to let his eyes focus on what was before him or to even move because he knew what it meant. He knew what he would clearly see and what it was expected of him and even if he was caring was nothing more than a symbol, he refused to do what was expected of him because that would mean he’d accept the hand that he was dealt with.

 

“James, everyone is staring at you,” Eve whispered softly in his ear, gently touching his shoulder.

 

“You should know by now that I quite like being the centre of attention, Eve.” His voice was weaker than he expected it to be and that reminded him of how he had sounded when he finally started to speak with his aunt after having to witness his parents’ funeral, his own weakness disgusting him and making him angrier than he already was, his body starting to tremble. “However, this farce isn’t quite up to my standards, so I decided to refuse participating in it.”

 

“It’s not really your choice,” Eve continued, squeezing his shoulder. “You always ignored what he told you to do or what he asked of you but please, just this once, follow the instructions he’s given you.”

 

Managing to look even more sour than he already was and his heart finding a way to shatter even more, James sighed and slowly started to move, lowering the coffin to the ground but still refusing to look anywhere but up, praying to the sky for something ridiculous to happen so he could wake up from this horrid nightmare.

 

But of course nothing like that happened and he was forced to sit through the priest reading the last rites and made to lower the empty coffin in the ground and stand by in complete silence and numbness as a never ending row of useless people who allowed this to happened threw flowers, tears, and dirt on it, sobbing and hiccupping their last goodbyes – and he wanted to slap each and every one of them and then have them kick him and shove him in the ground next to where Q was metaphorically resting because out of everyone, he was the most useless one.

 

Why did he pick then, just after dethroning his psychotic step-brother, to leave? Why then, when he was more than aware that the vacuum of power in that well-run organization wasn’t going to last long? It hadn’t been for true love as Madeleine was the literal opposite of his usual type and it hadn’t been because he was disappointed in the way the new M deal with coup d’état, so why? Was it because he was just stupid? Because he thought he felt something towards someone that was helping him while he running around the world against orders and he suddenly decided that he didn’t do ‘complicated’?

 

But then, his relationship with Madeline had been anything but simple. They both needed to be in control and while he knew he could give that up if he was dealing with someone he trusted and the problem was, he couldn’t do that with Madeleine. He didn’t worry that she was the daughter of someone who had tried to kill him and who he had indirectly helped ease into the afterlife, he could easily sleep with his back turned to her, he didn’t flinch when she came out of nowhere, and he even let her cook for him, but the tension never left his shoulders when it was just them and he felt the need to butt heads with her over everything and while he tended to do the latter with a certain someone else, he always left the room with a small smile on his lips and feeling like nothing could go wrong for him that day, which was never the case with Madeleine.   

 

No, no… This outcome being entirely his fault and no one else’s made much too much sense, so he decided that what Blofeld had done to him was the real reason for why he had acted so out of character. The man was a lot of things, but he was first and foremost the mastermind of an evil organization that had a lot of psychopathic scientists who really knew what they were doing, so that needle that got stuck in his brain really must have done something out of which he got snapped out of when Eve dropped the bomb about—

 

“James, it’s time for us to go home,” Alec muttered, walking up by his side and touching their shoulders together to gently nudge him out of his own private hell. “The funeral ended three hours ago and the sun is setting.”

 

James snorted, starting to dig through Alec’s pockets in search for a flask that still had something in it and a cigarette. “This bloody day couldn’t even be decent enough to have the sun act like a half-assed metaphor and start to set just as we were lowering that over-sized shoebox in the ground.”

 

“Yeah, that would have been something that Q liked,” Alec hummed, patting James’ back as he lit his cigarette for him – he knew the man well enough to realize that if the lighter didn’t work from the start, he’d have a meltdown. “Still, we have to go to Q’s apartment now; the lawyer can’t finish reading the will if we’re not all there and that won’t bring him back to life.”

 

“Neither him reading it,” James argued. But still, that was Q’s wish and it also was the least he could do after letting him down so hard. “We’ll have to stop at a Tesco or whatever to buy some alcohol on our way over. Q looked much too much like a high-schooler to ever be allowed to buy some for himself.”

 

He left the driving to Alec since his licence got revoked not too long ago – James had suspected for a long time that the only reason why he was still legally allowed to drive outside of missions was because of Q and when his suspicion got confirmed, he wanted to go back in the past and save as many of the cars that the younger man sort of trusted him with as he could – and his normally speedaholic friend drove as slow as he could, even getting pulled over by a pair of cops who were worried that something was wrong with the car.

 

It took them one hour to reach Q’s apartment and after narrowly avoiding getting arrested – Alec pretended to not understand a single English word while James did not hold back from drinking directly out of a bottle and showing obvious disdain towards the two worried offices when they started to talk with him – and they were pretty much marched upstairs by a really tired-looking and obviously cried out R who muttered under her breath that Q put all of his eggs in the most unworthy basket that ever existed.

 

James hoped that when he walked in the apartment, he would be greeted by a laughing Q, but Nietzsche was right in his statement about God being dead and he was instead met with a room full of people with puffy eyes, an annoyed lawyer, and two depressed-looking cats curled on the ugliest sweater in existence that clearly belonged to Q.

 

“Ah, we can finally start,” the lawyer grumbled, swallowing his words and being to tremble a second later when he found himself on the receiving end of glares from deadly people. “R-right, so Mister Boothroyd bequeathing all of his research to his department, his gaming console and games to miss R, all his books to miss Moneypenny, alongside a letter for each of them,” he held the envelopes out and R instantly started to sob while former field agent Eve obviously fought back tears, “his entire wine collection goes to Alec with the mention that he will lose it if he gets a single DUI from today forward, his apartment—”

 

James’ focus shifted from the lawyer to the two cats which had silently made their way over to his feet, fixing him with their mismatched eyes until he picked them up and placed them in his lap, shocking him when they immediately started to purr. “The cats will go with me,” he suddenly said, carefully scratching the black one behind its ear and not caring at all that the tabby’s claws found their way in his tie. “What are their names?”

 

The lawyer frowned and started to flip through his papers. “Ah, the will states—”

 

“The cats are coming with me,” James said slowly, daring the man to tell him otherwise.

 

Sweating and tugging on his shirt’s collar, the man emptied the glass of water Eve offered him before tapping the will. “I understand that everyone is grieving and that this procedure is the 3rd most hated thing in a situation like this after identifying a body and burying someone, but I am bound by law to do as I’m instructed in my departed client’s will and it says here that the two cats can either go to a Mister James Bond or—”

 

“I’m James Bond,” he said quickly, his eyes suddenly starting to sting. “I’m James Bond which means that they are mine, so tell me their names.”

 

“Turing is the black one and the tabby is named Luke,” R managed to say between sobs, letter tightly clutched in her hand. “I’ll e-mail you their feeding instructions and don’t let Turing’s acting get to you when you’re eating because he’s only allowed that food on the list and only take them to a groomer when it’s time to cut their claws because you might nip their nerves and if you hurt them, we will _all_ come after you.” Her voice had turned into a growl and James shrunk a little in the chair, the two cats pushing against him even more as they turned into big balls of fluff, their claws digging into his legs.

 

James’s eyes softened as he truly looked at the woman. “I disappointed him enough for one lifetime, don’t you think?” She started to hiccup again and Eve pulled her in another room before she could have another breakdown. “I remember him saying that he had a mortgage to pay which I’ll cover.”

 

“There’s no mortgage to be dealt with, Mister Bond,” the lawyer chimed in. “I already covered what will happen with Mister Boothroyd’s savings and Swiss cabin, so all that’s left now is this apartment,” he said slowly, scooting closer to James with a pen and some papers. “Mister Boothroyd also left you the apartment to do as you see fit with it, so I will need you to sign here, here, put your initials there, full name at the bottom of the page, signature above it, today’s date right next to it, the keys are in this envelope, and allow me to present you with my saddest congratulations.”

 

If Alec hadn’t been behind him to squeeze his shoulders, James would have punched the man for those words and if Tanner hadn’t pushed a glass of whiskey to his lips, he would have given him a piece of his mind. Q’s cats – well, his cats now, although he’d rather think of them as _their_ cats – however looked like they were ready to shred the jolly man and James doubted that anyone was going to actually try to stop them.

 

“Mister Anderson, is there anything else mentioned in the late Mister Boothroyd’s will that you’d need to share with us?” Oh, he had forgotten about M, the shining example of proper etiquette in all situations and the perfect wet blanket to their little revenge parties.

 

The lawyer became agitated after a moment, quickly running back to the desk and missing how everyone in the room reached for their weapons, M signalling everyone to stand down before they gave the man a heart attack. “I cannot believe that I almost forgot about this,” he was grumbling under his breath, now spilling the contents of his back on the desk. “And after I fretted over how I was going to deliver it in person given that—Aha! Here it is!” He held up a yellow envelope for the world to see before giving it to James. “Mister Boothroyd worried the most that this would never reach you which, when taking his age into consideration, was one of the saddest things I have ever heard.”

 

No one really stuck around for the food that was served after the lawyer left, Alec being the last one to leave after making sure that the food in the fridge was good, the cats were properly fed – or as fed as they wanted to be, given their depressed state – and also that his friend could get properly sloshed after seeing whatever it was in the envelope, but not have enough alcohol to put himself into a coma.

 

“I don’t think Q has enough Irish Tea for that to happen,” James tried to joke, lifelessly walking around the apartment with Luke and Turing imitating him.

 

The apartment was much bigger than James had imagined it, the scent of tea that seemed to have clung to every piece of furniture and wall acting like Q’s ghost. He had never been a huge fan of tea to begin it as he considered the leaves too weak to truly wake him up - which caused Q to ask him in the most snobbish way he could muster why he thought beans of all things did a better job than his tea, James’ plan of mockingly asking him if he wanted to try coffee from his apartment in the morning ruined by 009 needing Q’s full attention - but even he had to admit that he liked the smell and he was sure that now he would make a cup every day to ensure that what little of Q’s presence was left in the apartment won’t suddenly disappear.

 

The main bathroom was filled with all sorts of hair products for both humans and cats, and it had a tub large enough to fit two people and he couldn’t help but wonder who had been the lucky one to enjoy that with Q and if the relationship had ended on good terms or if any tears had been spilled and who had been the one to spill them. The walls were covered in soft blue tiles, and a blue cat-shaped fluffy rug was thrown over the black marble that covered the floor which he would have normally found tacky, but seemed to perfectly represent Q and somehow bring the otherwise stylish bathroom together.

 

The next room he inspected was the kitchen and although it was as large as James’, it was somehow emptier than his, Alec filling three garbage bags of nothing but expired takeout and empty bags of junk food – he now regretted never actually dropping by to cook breakfast for him like he had jokingly threatened Q to do so many times.

 

He couldn’t bring himself to go into Q’s bedroom despite the two cats doing their best to get him to change his mind and he found that the man’s office was also a big no, his heart going into overdrive the second he touched the doorknob.

 

“Let’s get you to the guest bedroom,” Alec said from behind him, gently resting his hand on his shoulder and guiding him down the hallway. “Coincidentally, that’s where he has a bit of alcohol.”

 

James perked up. “Really?”

 

“Well, that’s where he keeps all those fancy alcoholic candy boxes so you send him, so technically I’m not lying,” Alec sheepishly admitted, realizing his mistake only when James slowly turned his head to glare at him. “He has that room for the agents that drop by for whatever reason after finishing their missions and I admit to being his tenant on more than one occasion.”

 

“Did 009 spend the night?” James asked sourly.

 

“I’m sure he never—”

 

“Alec.”

 

“Maybe once or twice, but no more—”

 

“Alec.”

 

“James, do you really want to have this conversation now?” Alec pretty much sounded like James imagined a mother would when she was at the end of her wits and her child was still asking a stupid question that really shouldn’t be asked in public and James had to do a double take to make sure that it was still Alec guiding him. “Don’t give me that look; I can be mature when the situation calls for it and seeing that you’re pretty much waiting for anyone to breathe wrongly in your direction for a chance to start a fight, I clearly have to be the one using common sense.”

 

James huffed, somewhat distracted by how homey the room felt. It never crossed his mind that a room could be just the right size or that a bed could be the perfect amount of soft and hard and yet there he was, sitting on one while his friend dug around through the armoire for clothes that fit him – because of course Q would be the kind of person who would buy clothes for his agents to ensure that they had a nice rest, bloody angelic man that he was and of course Alec would find a pair of pyjamas that would fit him perfectly because God decided that he needed another good kick in the balls.

 

“I’ll sleep on the sofa, in my own clothes,” he said suddenly, practically running out of the room and dragging Alec with him. “Plus, I need to see whatever Q left me in that envelope.”

 

“There’s a perfectly good TV in—”

 

“Bed’s too soft for my back,” James lied, squeezing Alec’s hand hard to get him to stop talking. “The bed is too soft, got it?”

 

“Your apartment now, James, so you do whatever you want,” Alec said softly, pulling the man into a hug before going to the front door. “I’ll bring all of your things tomorrow morning, but feel free to give me a call at any hour if you need anything.”

 

He needed a target. Not just any target, of course. He needed the man or woman who put out a hit on Q and actually got successful. He also needed the person who was the actual assassin and the one who sold them their weapon and the traitor that must be in their midst and the people who birthed the traitor and whoever hired the traitor—

 

“Deep breaths, James because we’ll get them and lock them in a room with you, but I don’t think anyone will be able to fix whatever’s in that envelope that you’re squeezing oh so tightly,” Alec called over his shoulder and James actually let out a strange noise before hurrying to gently place it on the small table in front of the sofa. “And don’t forget to actually sleep.”

 

He was totally going to sleep…As soon as he finished with the envelope. The envelope that’s been sitting untouched on the table for well over two hours because James enough of a brain to know that he was going to find a CD in there with the man’s last message for him and that somehow hurt him more than when he carried the empty coffin – and no 009 to take his anger out on or to distract him, great.

 

“Your master was a bigger sadist than I thought,” he told the two sleeping cats before stopping to try to avoid the unavoidable and carefully opening the envelope. “King of angelic sadists that you don’t want to disappoint is what he is.”

 

He entertained the idea of tossing the CD out the window for a second, a shiver running down his spine when a picture of a really annoyed Q flashed in his mind and the two cats suddenly woke up just to attack his hand for a moment, like they somehow knew he had done something to upset their daddy and they were getting revenge for him – if only he would have been as loyal as them, things would have definitely turned out differently.

 

“Fine, fine, I’ll watch it now.” His hand started to tremble when he put the CD in the DVD player and breathing became harder when he pressed play, only for his heart to come to a complete stop when Q’s face popped up on the huge screen.

 

Q looked the same as he had on the day he left – well, not exactly the same; his cheeks were more prominent which meant that he had lost weight, he had bags under his eyes and he was pale, so he hadn’t slept right in a long while, he had a bit of a 5 o’clock stubble, and his tie wasn’t properly done and the first two buttons of his shirt were open, so Q clearly had a rough night – and that kickstarted James’ detective mode. The fact that Q was in his office and still looked left and right to make sure that it was safe before focusing his tired green eyes on the camera did not help at all.

 

“ _I do hope you didn’t cause too much trouble for poor Mister Anderson_ ,” Q started right away and James huffed because he could at least give him a half-assed greeting before starting to rip him a new one. “ _Or at least tell me you didn’t attack a 60 year old man because you thought he was trying to kill you just because he happened to be walking right behind you for more than ten minutes.”_

 

“That happened _once_ ,” James quickly defended himself to the recording, crossing his arms over his chest as he pouted like a child. “You said you’d let it go, you spotted dick.”

 

Q chuckled, a bit of life coming back in his eyes. “ _I assume you mocked my age just now, so I will redirect your attention to the main bathroom where I bought two bottles of blond dye that should make your hair look like it used to. I hope it’s expired_ ,” he added in a whisper, looking away.

 

James paused the video there and quickly went to the bathroom to check the dye, writing down the lot number to have some nameless boffin run it and see when it was made, at what store it was shipped to, and when Q bought it.

 

“ _On to serious business_ ,” the recording continued to say, James straightening up by reflex at hearing those words. “ _The last we saw each other, you were driving off into the sunset with Miss Swann and while I do hope that turned out to be the best decision you ever made, I still decided to leave you this apartment just in case things went down south and you’re back to your usual hotel jumping.”_

 

He should have come back sooner. The second he realized that him and Madeleine were nothing more than bed partners that didn’t get along anywhere else, he should have listened to that little voice inside his mind that told him to go pester the spotted boffin and the boring pencil pusher until he was reinstated instead of bed hop. Had he done that, had he been the agent he was supposed to be, Q wouldn’t—

 

“ _If you’re sitting there with Miss Swann who is now Mrs. Bond, I apologize and please consider this apartment a wedding gift for you to do whatever you want with it and in my defence, I am—”_ He stopped suddenly and suddenly got paler, eyes widening. He quickly shoved his hands under the table, hoping to hide his trembling, but only ending up underlining even more how terrified he was. “ _Well, I was the Quartermaster and I could only read code, all kind of maps, and dangerous situations, never relationship outcomes_.”

 

This was probably the first time Q had ever been wrong and he wasn’t here to be teased.

 

“ _Have a happy life, James and don’t do anything stupid._ ”

 

The video ended with Q throwing an empty smile at the camera and with James even more determined than before that the man had gotten infected with his horrible luck and stumbled into something awfully dangerous even for someone who knowingly and willingly worked with spies and he had to find out why he didn’t tell anyone, who he suspected of foul play within their own ranks to have him keep quiet, what new painful torture methods were invented, and for how long he could keep someone alive while applying said methods.


	2. Chapter 2

“Overall, we’re in the black with our budgets,” M said after the last department head finished talking, not bothering to mirror the others’ obvious fake smiles. “Let me repeat that: we’re not haemorrhaging money despite James Bond _somehow_ being back on active duty.”

 

Everyone turned to look at the MI6’s head doctor who was very obviously sweating. “I—I followed proper protocol when it came to 007’s tests and he passed all with flying colour! He didn’t try to intimidate me or any member of my staff for a single second and even when I sprung a surprise blood test on him to see if I could find any abnormal amount of alcohol in his blood, everything came back perfect. Bond hadn’t had so much as a glass of wine, so I didn’t have any reasons _not_ to reinstate him without making it obvious.”

 

M fixed the doctor with his cold eyes, fisting his hands. “You are aware, of course, that your goal isn’t to find reasons to bench our agents, right?”

 

“R-right! Of course! I just meant that—”

 

“I don’t want you to hound and stress this man than he already is,” M interrupted him, even less in the mood to hear excuses than usual. “In fact, I want you all to go out of your way to make sure that he’s doing fine without making it obvious that I made you do that.” He quickly raised his hand to keep the room quiet. “You figure out how to do that, that’s why you are all department heads.”

 

“We will now move on to talking about our new Quartermaster, who is not at this meeting despite it being mandatory for every department head as long as they aren’t on any kind of vacation or experiencing anything from code orange to code black,” Eve quickly said when she saw that M was starting to get up, flashing her boss a strained smile.”

 

“But R is supposed to be on medical leave,” M murmured, making a disapproving noise in the back of his neck when Eve looked helplessly at him. “Doctor, why don’t you focus on banning that woman before she collapses?”

 

“She already did that,” Eve whispered in M’s ear. “Twice. She was actually stomping out of Medical earlier today and barking orders at the medical staff while their own team leader just watched everything impassively.”

 

The doctor blinked a few times and then threw his hands in the air. “That woman is impossible and Miss Moneypenny knows it because she too failed getting her to stay away for more than one day! She doesn’t listen to a think any of my employees tell her and if they try to force her to actually take those vacation days she’s supposed to take, our entire network goes down!”

 

“How am I to blame that you signed a medical leave that lasted _just_ a single day? Which, by the way, is illegal,” Eve snapped back.

 

“Maybe you should drop by to get your hearing checked,” the man grumbled not quite under his breath, the two sharing a glare before jumping at each other’s necks.

 

M wanted nothing more than to rest his face in his palms and actually cry, but Alec grinned as he shut off the hidden microphone Eve had on her and focused his attention back on helping James pack for his unofficial mission which he had given to himself the second it turned out that the dye Q had bought for him was a puzzle.

 

The lot number on the bottle was much too high to be just that, there was a huge discrepancy in the colour name and the colour that it was advertising on the box, the company that was selling the dye didn’t actually have any product with that name, the colour number was off and finally, the dye itself was nothing more than melted Swiss chocolate mixed with minced octopus.

 

After James was done threatening the special team of boffins R had handpicked with very slow and very painful deaths should they turn out to be a bunch of traitors – almost smacking the one that tried to joke by asking what he’d do if R turned out to be the traitor since the woman was Q’s unofficial baby sister and that’s exactly how the man would have wanted James to act in this situation – he let them try to figure out what they meant.

 

Once he was convinced that R really knew what she was doing when she was setting up loyal teams, it was time for them to find new quarters from which they could operate – or rather, to find quarters within their current quarters and a way to sneak James in and out without anyone noticing anything. Eve worried the most about that, but their salvation came from beyond the grave when James found pieces of a hastily made map of some of the MI6 tunnels hidden in the beaten down sofa in Q’s office while trying to nap.

 

With that out of the way, all that was left to do is figure out where Q wanted them to go and why.

 

“Remind me to buy Eve something really nice and to not be a pain in the ass for that man and his department for at least half a year for this performance,” James murmured as he went over all the equipment his boffin team had managed to make disappear without anyone noticing – a bunch of 1 euro coins that exploded, a few 1 cent coins that acted as tracking devices, three 5 euro bills that were supposed to help him bypass almost every biometric system in existence and help the boffins hack, his classical gun that only worked with his fingerprint, 5 wristwatches that exploded, and an ID that despite looking like it was a normal, plastic one, it could be instantly digitally altered to say whatever James wanted. “Q’s minions really outdid themselves.”

 

“Q’s prototypes,” R chimed in from the door, holding her hands up in defeat when everyone in the room turned to glare at her. “I’m just here to make sure that everything is going according to plan and then I’ll go back to Medical.” She fixed Bond with her eyes for a second before adjusting his tie and slipping a pair of keys in his pocket. “Special kind of skeleton keys to make it easier for you when you see a car that you simply _have_ to have. Q decided to make that for you since you rarely bothered to steal the keys that were for the other double oh agents.”

 

Now, despite the fact that everyone was used to James doing unexpected things, R was still startled when she felt the man wrap his arms around her. “I’ll promise to keep the ringleader alive long enough for you to have a go at him if Q’s really dead,” he promised. “I’ll even help you turn whatever body part of theirs into a beautiful Christmas ornament.”

 

“Can they live long enough to see that?” She grumbled, hugging him back and hiding her face in his chest because she was sick of her supposed underlings seeing her cry.

 

James chuckled, locking eyes with a grinning and nodding Alec. “I’m sure Alec’s KGB training will be more than helpful when it comes to that.” He let R go, flinching when the cats dug their claws in his leg. “I’m being a decent human being here,” he defended himself, crouching down to scratch them behind their ears. “Or are you two afraid that you’ll be left alone again? I promised Q that I’d take good care of you, so don’t be like this.”

 

Everyone awkwardly shuffled away when James started to talk with the cats, all of them finding his new habit too endearing and sweet to associate with the deadly agent. Funnier still, it was a habit he shared with Q, although R doubted the man was aware of that as Q went out of his way to act cool whenever he had to interact with his favourite agent.

 

“I’ll let them run amok on your suites if they get depressed,” Alec interrupted the sweet moment, dragging James back up on his feet, and pushing a duffle bag full of weapons in his arms. “Now go before M figures out that something’s not right and shuts down every airport.”


	3. Chapter 3

The numbers on the dye tube turned out to be coordinates. Problem was that if they looked at them in the preferred order, it landed them somewhere in Somalia, but if they switched them around, they were supposed to go to Switzerland – and Somalia couldn’t be ruled out because James fought someone in a volcano, another person in the middle of the bloody Atlantic ocean, and knew at least two deserts like the back of his palm by this point. But that’s when the half of the bottle’s contents came into play.

 

As earlier determined, the chocolate was from Switzerland, but Q had gone the extra mile and put in a _specific_ brand of chocolate that was made by Favarger which was located at Chemin de la Chocolaterie 2 in Versoix, Switzerland. The other half of the tube was a mystery, but James thought it was for the best to worry about while personally buying chocolate from the famous store.

 

Not that it helped. _“Perhaps you should visit every restaurant and store in this city that sells squid_ ,” Alec said, feeding James’ frustration.

 

“It was octopus,” James growled, pretending to clear his throat when someone very obviously turned to look at him and then pulled out his phone so he could continue his conversation with Alec without seeming like someone who had escaped from a mental institution. “Maybe that part of the clue doesn’t have to do with a place.”

 

“ _If not a place, then it’s supposed to be an obvious reference to someone and we both know who had a thing for the eight-armed mollusc.”_ Good, they were both on the same page. “ _You want me to visit that screwball of a brother’s of yours and see if I can get him to narrate something useful?”_

 

James sighed. “The only way he’d say anything is if I’m there to ask him personally,” he grumbled, ducking into the public library. “How’s M doing, by the way?”

 

“ _Still raging about wanting your balls to hang them from his Christmas tree._ ” The man clearly had a very specific fetish since he had threatened Q with the same thing. “ _Though, to be fair, finding you is like item twenty three on his list and he is in an extra-long budget meeting outside of the building, which means that we pretty much have the place to ourselves, so I could set up a, hopefully, informing and loving family reunion.”_

 

Again, James doubted that the man would give him any straight answers since he was an obvious sociopath that got his kicks from seeing him suffering and if he was involved in Q’s premature departure, he would only give him vague answers that could apply to pretty much everything while promising to tell him more if he asked those very same questions in person, but it wasn’t like they had any other options at this point, especially since there was probably an all-ports warning on his name which meant that he’d be instantly taken into custody and every person M suspected of helping him would be suspended indefinitely just to assure that MI6 wouldn’t be presented on a silver platter to another C.

 

“I’m in a library ten minutes away for the Four Seasons that I’m staying,” he cracked a smile as he pictured Q’s eye twitching right before starting to give him a long-winded speech about what it really meant to lay low, his brows furrowed in annoyance as he pushed his glasses on top of his head to pinch the bridge of his nose to better get across just how frustrated and done he was with him, “but I’ll leave the digging around to Q’s minions as I’m pretty sure that they know what I’m looking for by now and go wait for your call back in my room.”

 

James planned to get himself not exactly plastered, but still perfectly buzzed before facing the man that had caused him so much pain just because he could because he was aware that even though he had received actual acting lessons for five years before even being considered for a double oh position, he still wouldn’t be able to remain impassive at seeing Blofeld’s face.

 

Not that drinking actually helped his acting, but he was sure he’d be too busy trying not to feel sick to really show his anger, but Alec ruined that plan by getting back to him in less than an hour. Or rather, Eve got back to him, told him that Alec had been sent on a long walk to calm down, and then turned the camera around to reveal a grinning Blofeld who was sporting a recently acquired black eye.

 

“ _Do you expect me to offer you my condolences for the loss of that most entertaining Quartermaster of yours, dear cuckoo?_ ”

 

To see the man be aware of the fact that he had power once again made James sick to his stomach, but he dug his nails in the palm of his hands to keep himself in check. “Proper etiquette always eluded you, Franz, so I don’t expect anything else except mockery.”

 

Blofeld tutted. “ _But darling cuckoo, I’m truly saddened by the supposed loss of such a wonderful young mind! And it’s fully my fault for entrusting Raoul with such a young mind instead of personally taking care of moulding that exquisite mind.”_ He let out a long, suffering sigh and pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his non-existing eye. “ _Although the downside to that is that I don’t think you would have suffered too much since you need them to sacrifice everything for you before you can even bring yourself to think of someone as a human being, right? Did you get to taste this one in bed as well, or is his state still a mystery to you?”_

 

James’ trigger finger began to itch. “I’ll colour in that other eye as soon as I’m back.”

 

“ _But if you waste your time doing that, my darling cuckoo, your precious Boothroyd Jr. will really be lost,”_ Blofeld mocked, licking his lips in pleasure at the clear shock and hope he must have read in James’ eyes. “ _Although he might really be dead already; I wouldn’t know for sure since I supposedly lost my power over my brainchild, but know that seeing the life come back to your face only to be drained a second later gives me strength and hope to continue being a model prisoner until your painful wails no longer act as my lullaby and your blood becomes my bathing water.”_

 

They clearly saved the world from more than just the end of George Orwell’s 1984 novel. “If you’re going to continue to be so—”

 

“ _If I continue to be your personal Nostradamus, you’ll do what?”_ They locked eyes and Blofeld tugged his chair closer to the camera, James noticing that there was nothing else in the other man’s eyes other than pure madness. _“Will you end the video conference that you requested in the first place? Trash your hotel room like the spy rock star you think yourself to be? Empty the minibar and then huddle in a corner while the ghost of all the people who had **trusted** you to keep them safe hovered around you? You still won’t see that little boffin of yours, you know.”_

 

James was the first person to look away, but he’d done that to hide a grin for in his insane smugness and wish to hurt him, Blofeld had revealed something. “I’ll make sure you never see the light of day or ever talk to anyone else,” he promised, signalling the agents in the shadows to drag the cursing man away.”

 

“ _It hurts me to say this, Bond, but don’t get your hopes up and don’t jump to conclusions_ ,” Eve said as she slipped in the shot, sounding and looking as eager and full of hope as James felt. “ _He might just be toying with you._ ”

 

“But, Eve, I can’t help but to do just that.” James replied, lying down on the bed. “Have Q’s boffins call me when they find what I’m looking for,” he added and before she could argue logic and mundus operandi, ended the call and shut off the laptop.

 

Out of all the possible outcomes for this, him being happy that he hadn’t touched a single drop of alcohol wasn’t one of them. He barked out a laugh and rolled on his side, drumming his fingers over his Aston Martin car keys and finally allowed himself to imagine how shocked Q would be when he brought the car around for a thorough inspection that would reveal that he brought it back in pristine condition.

 

He will not try to rub Q’s nose in that – if anything, he’d rub their noses together because just getting a mental imagine of trying to get Q to touch his nose to the care made him realize that the younger man owned a nose that demanded the insultingly named ‘Eskimo kisses’ – nor will he gloat. No, no, this was the perfect opportunity to show Q that he could be trusted with fragile things – or with cars that weight a ton and a half – and land himself in his good graces because there was no way in hell that you’d make someone carry your bloody coffin if you didn’t want to have the last word in a fight.

 

Maybe Q will be so shocked to see the car in pristine condition that his knees went weak and James had to catch him which would then lead to him carrying the younger man bridal style inside his former apartment – how they got there wasn’t important because James was also imagining how he actually liked the smell of tea as long as it was coming from Q – and, after kicking the door open and being called a brute with no manners, they’d bump their foreheads together by accident. Their lips would also brush, but Q would be too distracted by pointing out how big and empty James’ head was to notice anything and then James would interrupt him mid rant with an actual kiss.

 

He thought Q might have a minty taste because he always saw the man as a breath of fresh air and since he couldn’t really _imagine_ a taste, he started to eye one of the mints on the pillows, an image of Q’s face twisted in agony bringing everything to an abrupt stop and his phone ringing was the only thing that kept him to fully focus on how close he was to violently vomiting.

 

“ _The files you were looking for are on your phone and Agent Trevelyan dislodged two of Blofeld’s teeth before we managed to get him off of him,”_ one of Q’s minions informed him and James was disappointed to hear that it was only a few teeth as he was really hoping for at least a collapsed nose bridge, five cracked ribs, and a broken jaw. “ _The Federal Intelligence Service has also put all of their agents at our disposal as well as decided to team you up with four of their best agents—”_

 

“This was supposed to be a solo mission,” James interrupted and put the man on speakerphone so he could properly suit up. “We don’t trust people within MI6 right now, so why would we be working with an agency from a country where we suspect that Spectre now has its main headquarters?”

 

“ _Because doing that legitimises the mission and doesn’t make you an agent that went AWOL_ ,” M said and James cringed – figures that a good head of a spying agency would know that something was up with his own employees. “ _This will also ensure that you have access to proper weapons and medical staff, should the outcome of the mission require them, so do you still have a problem with your superior calling the shots on a mission that you weren’t even supposed to be on?”_

 

Yes, yes he still did because he was at that point in the mission in which he was so paranoid about everything and everyone that he thought M was a traitor who had something to gain if Q disappeared. “None whatsoever, sir,” he grumbled, fisting his hand and eyeing a spot on the wall that looked like it was begging to be punched. “Are the Swiss agents on their way, or do I need to blow what little cover I have in order to go to FIS and pick them up?”

 

“ _Your tone of disapproval has been noted down and you’ve already met the agents_ ,” M said, his tone making it really easy for James to picture him glaring at him while drumming his fingers on the table. “ _I will also discuss with the head of the agency about setting up an exchange program after everything is over and you get reinstated for the nth time.”_

 

“I’m sure that the other agents will—”

 

 _“Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about what it means to be an actual spy and not a trigger happy mercenary,”_ M interrupted him and James realized that he should be thankful for being spared weeks of uncertainty about his punishment. “ _Now go continue playing the role of an agent that I’m not embarrassed to have on my payroll and really try not to blow anything up.”_

 

It would have been easier if M had asked him to bring him the moon, but James still made a promise out of courtesy to do his best. He didn’t do the same when M told him to play nice with the other agents – because he was a spy, not an Oscar winning actor – James snorting at that concept even before the other was done talking. His new partners were going to be too slow, too suspicious, too untrustworthy, and too out of the loop with the case to be of any use, even if the increased numbers that were fighting on his side guaranteed he had more chances of actually getting alive out of everything.

 

It annoyed him that they were all taller than him, blonder than him, friendlier towards a strangers than any other MI agent in existence, nicer to each other than it was humanly possible, and it really pissed him too no end that the woman giving him instructions in a thick accent wasn’t his Quartermaster or someone assigned to James by Q because he was either away on a vacation or because he was trying to teach him a lesson about not taking things for granted – and, believe you him, he had learned that lesson and all he wanted now as to get his Quartermaster back and show him that.

 

At least they were also good mood readers and they stopped trying to befriend him after five minutes of mono-syllabic answers, although James wasn’t too appreciative of the sorrowful looks they were giving him and if one more perfect agent was going to give him a pitiful and understanding pat on his back while assuring him that everything was going to be away, he was going to break all of their arms, international scandal be damned. The same went for the overly-sympathetic Quartermaster that claimed to be really good friends with Q, so when she wasn’t waxing poetry about his brain and imagination, she was referring him in the past tense despite being aware of the fact that they were all supposed to pretend that the outcome couldn’t be anything else but exactly what James imagined it for his mental sake.

 

When they finally pulled up in front of the normal-looking hospital, James made to jump of the fake ambulance they were using – apparently the Spectre cell in Switzerland was focusing on Medical research, so of course they managed to take over one of the biggest hospital in the city without the country’s intelligence agency noticing anything – only to be roughly pushed right back down on the gurney.

 

“Very wounded patient that needs immediate attention, remember?” Annoying agent number three reminded him with the sweetest smile on that perfect face of his and touched up James’ supposed gashing chest wound. “Try to look almost dead, okay? And remember not to move around too much and to breathe irregularly, but not to overdo it. We must make sure that everything goes according to plan.”

 

The plan was a simple one which meant that it was an overly complicated one that had a lot of chances failing.

 

After the painful introductions were over, James was made to share the information that Q’s minion sent to his phone and, somehow, everyone decided that it would be a wonderful idea if James played the role of someone wounded in a car accident near the Spectre hospital since everybody in that organization knew who James Bond was by now and it would be impossible for them to hold back for taking him to either their murder room or area of experimentation, moment in which he’d reveal that he was alive and well, give the signal, and then simply step to the side and letting FIS deal with everything, intervening only if he was asked to do so or if anyone was immediate danger.

 

And okay, yeah, that really was a good plan, but James still expected it to go tits up the second the Spectre agents saw him because if they really thought that the people around him were simple workers, why would they hold back from killing everyone right where they stood? That would be something James would do as a maniac bent on world domination if he were presented with his nemesis on a silver platter.

 

Then again, torture wasn’t his thing, but it was definitely a Spectre staple. So it was no surprise for James when the doctor that originally greeted him was switched out for one that had a sadistic grin when their eyes met, the scar that decorated the right side of his face making him think that the two of them had met at one point in the battle field. The three nurses that joined the scarred men also didn’t instil trust in him, especially since their outfits looked more like the kind you’d see Americans wear at college Halloween parties than what an actual nurse would wear.

 

“We’ll take it from here,” one of the women said with a thick Russian accent, quickly switching out the fake IV bag he had with another. “You won’t feel a thing, I promise,” she whispered in his ear and James suspected that whatever was supposed to start flowing through his veins was meant to put him to sleep.

 

And this is where he really had to give kudos to this agency because even though the nurse dragged her nails down his arm and then pushed the needle deeper, they had rigged it so it wouldn’t actually pierce his skin and then they hoped that no one would check what was going on under the medical tape – which never even crossed the minds of the fake medical staff, so James pretended to get even dizzier than he was supposed to already be and was rolled deeper in the hospital, past the rooms where actual doctors and patients to a quieter, darker, and fancier part of the hospital, the white walls giving way to golden ones that went perfect with the crimson carpet that just appeared after they passed through a door.

 

He wasn’t worried about anything, not only because the soft voice of the woman Quartermaster was still coming in through the hidden earpiece without any sort of interferences to let him now that more FIS agents were entering the hospital without too much hassle, but also because he was too busy trying not to rip anyone’s throat since they thought it was a good moment to start mocking Q.

 

“How MI6 lasted for so long with that willowy geek with no actual brain or sense of self-preservation as a Quartermaster and you idiot as their best agent is beyond me,” the scarred man sneered at him as he took out a card and swiping it between the first and second row of buttons before punching in a floor number that shouldn’t have existed. “However, since it took us more than a day to catch him, I can’t help but wonder if you’re any good with a computer and maybe the two of you should have switched roles.”

 

“But I think you’re the perfect field agent,” one of the nurses chimed in and jumped on top of James the second the doors finished closing. “You’re more pleasing to the eye than the scrawny man with the posh accent and more simplistic in your thinking, which made our lives so much easier since the boss didn’t even have time to fully read the report about you landing in this country, much less angry at your presence on our territory,” she whispered in his ear, biting down hard on it while drawing her sharp nails down his chest. “Wait, this isn’t—”

 

“No, it isn’t,” James interrupted her and kneed her between her legs before pushing his elbow in her stomach and throwing her over the two other nurses, ripping his IV out and actually shoving the needle in the scarred man’s neck and smacking his face against the gurney three times to make sure he stayed down. “I’d advise you two to stay where you are because I’m not exactly feeling like a gentleman right now.”

 

Naturally, henchmen aren’t really the type that actually listened to common sense or good advice, so the two women pushed their colleague off of them and charged James, only to get the breath easily knocked out of them when they got kicked in the stomach, and then they lost their consciousness when their heads were smashed against the wall. Despite their obvious intention of killing him, James still checked their pulses to make sure that they were still alive before stepping to the side of the door and waiting for it to reach the non-existent floor.

 

There were no alarms were going off yet, James wondered if his temporary Quartermaster had managed to hack the security system. Then again, the lack of an alarm could have also been because there were no cameras in the elevator and no one noticed what he had done or because everything was a trap, a simple part of the Spectre game that he seemed to be forced to play until the day he died. Naturally, James being James, he decided that and the woman meant to help him was nothing more than just another Spectre paw, so just as the doors started to open, he crushed his ear piece.

 

It took a few seconds for anyone to notice the passed out people in the elevator and when they did, they sent an armed guard forward. The man’s mistake was entering gun first which James rendered useless when he lifted his leg and pushed his entire weight on it, trapping him long enough to hit him behind his ear and knock him out. This henchman wasn’t as lucky as the knocked out ones because his companions turned out to be trigger happy which forced James to turn him into a living shield.

 

James took down three more guards before the alarms went off, sending everyone into a frenzy. Nurses were tripping over each other in an attempt to get every last one of their patients out and James was torn between trying to stop them from taking those people away to prolong their torture and staying out of their way while the supposed doctors were throwing everything their hands fell on his way. Making things more confusing and dangerous for James, more armed guards showed up, gunning down their own people that accidentally got in their way in a desperate attempt to take him down.

 

He had a few close calls before he managed to duck into a security room and lock the bulletproof door behind him, quickly dodging the chair that was thrown at his head before rushing the lone security guard that passed out as soon as the back of his head connected with a table.

 

Speakers crackled and it startled James, sending a bullet flying towards the upper right side of the room, which turned out to be a great source of amusement to his unseen enemy. “ _I never thought that the great James Bond to be someone easily startled.”_

 

The second he started talking, the banging on the door became even more desperate. “Why don’t you come here and personally find out just how jumpy I can be?”

 

“ _I think I’ll pass on that lovely offer, Mister Bond_ ,” the man muttered, tutting as a few screens went off. “ _Now, now, Mister Bond… It’s not polite to peek._ ”

 

“It’s not polite to kidnap my Quartermaster and make me go through a mock funeral either, but that didn’t stop you, did it?” James growled, slamming one of the special five euro notes down on the console with a little too much force than needed. “However, I am willing to consider simply walking out if you give him back to me right now.”

 

His unseen enemy snorted. “ _I know all about you, Mister Bond. I know what happened to the Pale King after your other little toy got hurt and I don’t think I can even imagine what you want to do to me right now, given that your little Quartermaster got himself in this mess by trying to protect you._ ”

 

James clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging into the skin of his palms. “I can guarantee you that death will not come easy to you,” he threatened, making a mental note to be R’s personal slave for at least about of month after this was over because she had managed to get all the screens back online and bypass whatever security they had to grand him free access to everything. “You’re nothing more than a disease ridden rat trying to escape a sinking ship, but that will only happen over my dead body.”

 

Despite his age, James wasn’t as technically challenged as many people thought him to be, mostly because Q had dedicated a bit of his time to make sure that all double oh agents were up to date with the latest advancements in technology. As such, it only took him a few button combinations to find the right one that put the entire building into lockdown, grinning like a maniac when he saw one of the many panicked people start to hit those around him before angrily turning at a camera.

 

He looked like the kind of man you would easily miss in a crowd: an unassuming middle aged man that wasn’t too tall or too short who’d done a really badly job of trying to hide the large bald spot he had on top of his head. And yet when James looked into his eyes, he felt like he was staring at a demon, a shiver running down his spine at the madness and anger he saw in them.  

 

“ _I never underestimate my opponent, Mister Bond, especially when my opponent is you,_ ” he growled, doing something on his phone that caused him to look even more deranged. “ _You don’t really have time to try to toy with me, Mister Bond. Or rather, you precious Quartermaster doesn’t._ ”

 

A counter counting down from 20 minutes appeared on all the screens and James knew right away what it was. But he didn’t become one of the best poker players without a poker face or without knowing how to bluff. “I have no evidence that Q is still in this building and if you think that my death will deter the rest of MI6 coming after you for taking our Quartermaster, you have another thing coming. The Quartermaster is one golden statue away from being worshiped like a God and ‘zealot’ is not a strong enough word to describe us.”

 

Unfortunately, his bluff was met. “ _Your eyesight is so bad for someone so young compared to me_ ,” he teased and then fell silent until he heard James’ breath hitched in his neck. “ _So tell me more about your God, Mister Bond, and I will tell how he bleeds and cries just like a pathetic human in pain._ ”  

 

Someone getting used against him was why James hated getting close to people and actually start to care for them. People that are close to him used as nothing more than a bargaining chip is, probably, why he chose to run away from his responsibilities with a perfect stranger instead of staying behind to clean up a mess that he created by simply existing after which he could have tried to develop a meaningful relationship with someone that he could call a friend even on their worst day together.

 

It was okay if he was the soon to be discarded pawn as he had long accepted that he was nothing more than that to his own agency, but when important people like Q were dragged in more because he was associated with him on a personal level than because he was the bloody Quartermaster – who really needed to learn about staying put in the basement he chose as his main base of operation for his own good or remember that he had trained assassins at his disposal who would do anything for him if he only bothered to call them and ask them – that’s when he began to regret being an actual human being instead of a ruthless robot.

 

“ _Open this door or I’ll halve his chances of getting out of here alive,_ ” he threatened and because James didn’t answer fast enough, he tapped his phone’s screen and the counter went down to 10. “ _Tick tock, Mister Bond. Make me wait too long again and I’ll show you how big a fan I am of division.”_

 

To lose Q would mean… No. No, he wasn’t going to lose Q. He could lose his chance to get revenge on Q’s behalf if he just got Q back. “It’s called the unavoidable for a reason and my day of reckoning will come,” James promised and did as he was asked, shooting all the other speakers before grabbing his own phone. “I don’t care what your name is, minion,” James snapped at the poor MI6 boffin that answered the phone. “You have less than a minute to get remote control of every camera in this building and shut them off floor by floor until I tell you to stop because I don’t think I have enough self-control to do that myself, understand?”

 

“ _Yes, but the FIS Quartermaster—”_

 

“Just do what you’re told and do it fast because the elevator that I’m looking at has about twenty buttons,” he growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Also, have FIS evacuate the building because it will blow up in 8 minutes.”

 

In less than a minute, red lights flashing started to accompany the blaring alarm – at least in the part of the building James was it – but he remained firmly planted next in the security room until the nameless minion assured him that they had managed to rig all the elevators to still work despite the building being in a state of emergency, his eyes glued on a TV screen and punching the wall every time he was asked if that was the right floor or not because he could still see Q’s motionless figure.

 

“Five, bloody minutes remaining and if Q dies, I will come back and haunt _you_ ,” he growled into the phone after floor three proved to be a dud, sighing when he heard the man let out a whimper. “Look, I didn’t mean to make you almost cry—” The hiccup that interrupted him meant that the man was actually crying now, but James had no idea how to deal with that right now, “You are doing a wonderful job for which I am grateful for, but if you could move faster— STOP!” He shouted suddenly, and jumped into the elevator. “What floor? What room? Turn the cameras back on and shut them down one by one—there! Right there!”

 

“ _The fifth­ floor, room 530—”_

 

“Wonderful. Open all electrical doors that might be closed on that floor and have FIS wait for us under the next convenient window! And make this elevator go faster!”

 

The last request had the minion start to openly cry. “ _I can’t make it go faster! They’re the old kind and no matter what I do, I can’t make them faster! You still have 4 minutes though and if you make a sudden right as soon as you get out of the elevator and run down that hallway, you’ll get to room 530._ ”

 

Asking for directions to Q’s room hadn’t even crossed James’ mind. “And where is a window that I’ll jump out of?”

 

“ _End of that corridor,_ ” the minion said between hiccups.

 

James was out of the elevator even before the doors fully opened. He squeezed out between them, almost tripping over some chairs when he took that sharp turn, and started to cough when he threw himself against the door that separated him from Q. The door was a simple one, but locked and since he now only had 2 minutes and 25 seconds to get out of there and he didn’t have time to pick the lock and because Q seemed to be right next to the door, he ignored that his right side had gone numb and threw himself against the door two more times before he managed to get it open.

 

He didn’t allow himself to freeze at the sight of Q and forced himself to gently turn him over to make sure that it was really his Quartermaster and then to check for his pulse, his knees almost giving out when he felt how faint it was and hear the pathetic whimper that escaped the cracked lips.

 

One minute, the voice in his ear said and, with a muttered apology, James picked Q up bridal style and ran towards the large window that he could now clearly see. His plan of jumping with his back in it, break it, and hope that he wouldn’t lose his ability to walk due to any glass that might end up lodged in his spine was ruined when the window did not even crack and, after apologizing to Q again for jostling him, opened the window, actually remembered to look down and make sure that they wouldn’t fall to his death, hugged the wounded man to his chest and jumped.


	4. Chapter 4

He was suddenly ripped from the silent darkness and no matter how much his struggled to keep his eyes closed in an attempt to avoid the unavoidable as much as he could, he felt them opening on their own.

 

“—shredded yet another one of my suits like it’s my fault they’re not allowed in here,” James was saying and…

 

Wait, James? And flowers? Ah, James’ torso kind of resembled that of a mummy’s so he was still delirious form whatever drug they had pumped in him the last time. Still, he appreciated how numb his entire body felt and he felt out of this world that he finally dreamt of a living James that was not accusing him of ruining his perfect civilian life with Miss Swann. True, he looked tired beyond belief, but his shoulders weren’t tense and he wasn’t bleeding all over the place, so Q could totally work with a James that had huge bags under his eyes and munched on an apple like he hadn’t touched food in years.

 

“I mean I thought about sneaking them in just because I know you’d be happy to feel them rub their furry little heads against you, especially now that your wounds are no longer an infection risk, but apparently there are other people in Medical that aren’t out of danger,” James continued to grumble, brows furrowed in annoyance and Q smiled sadly.

 

He knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t feel anything when he touched James’ cheek and that this normal dream would end as soon as he did that which would force him to return to a world of dull pain and tedious questions in between painful shots of dangerous drugs and seemingly never-ending torture, but he really couldn’t help himself. James simply looked too _comfortable_ and _warm_ not to try and touch him and his hands felt so cold and…

 

“You’re real,” Q croaked out, pushing his hand closer to James’ face. “You’re real and you’re here and I failed.” He was on the verge of tears now, lower lip shaking, because that meant he failed.

 

He had accidentally stumbled on this division of Spectre and foolishly thought that he could take them down on his own given that MI6 was already stretched thin with the madness that followed Max’s downfall. It worked perfectly fine for the first few months, Q managing to shut down and reveal other subdivisions and apparently legitimate companies that backed them up without having to take a single step out of the country and then he got too cocky and they caught him.

 

Realizing what was going to happen, Q quickly made a trail of breadcrumbs and hoped that his death would be a swift one. But that hadn’t been the case because Spectre was both foolish enough to hold out hope that he’d became a traitor just to get rid of the pain and sadistic enough to prolong his suffering.

 

“We’re back in London and you’re safe,” James reassured him in a whisper, taking Q’s hand and giving it a light squeeze before placing it under the covers. “They _accidentally_ blew his escape convoy up, Q, so try to relax.” He pulled out his phone out of his pocket and let a video of an explosion roll, turning to glare at the door. “The doctor will be here in a moment if he knows what’s good for him.”

 

Q snorted, regretting that he did that because he had closed his eyes and he seemed to have a really hard time to open them again. Maybe if he kept them shut for a few seconds, he’d have an easier time? Or maybe until the doctor came in the room since his right one had stung him a little? Yeah, he felt better with his eyes closed and the morphine that was flowing through his veins was making him feel like he was floating, so he’d just wait for the doctor to come and then have a little talk with James about threatening their medical staff.

 

Then again, maybe he should have a talk with the medical staff about coming when they were called because they sure were clearly talking their sweet time.

 

“Could you please try to call the doctor…?” Q started only to trail off when he realized that the room was darker and empty. “Not again,” he whispered as his heart dropped in his stomach, afraid that he had allowed himself to be stupid and confuse a stupid dream with reality. “Why don’t I learn?” He asked himself and tugged on his hair, jumping out of the bed when the door was pulled with a little too much force than necessary.

 

“Quartermaster, you are safe,” the newcomer said slowly, holding his hands out in front of himself in what was clearly an attempt to calm down. “You are back in London and no one here wants to harm you, so please get back to bed.”

 

“We’ve already danced to this boring song,” Q hissed, grabbing his IV stand. “You may have worn me down, but I won’t fall for any of your tricks.”

 

The doctor opened his mouth to speak again, but let out a yelp when someone that had the same build as James walked into the room and pushed him up against a wall. “What did the head Freud say about Q and new faces?” He even snarled the same way James did and, despite Q’s vision being more limited and blurrier than it usually was when he didn’t have his glasses, his blue eyes became less harsh when they focused on him. “Take your time, Q, but know that you’re with friends and that you’re completely safe.”

 

“Come closer,” Q instructed, holding out the stand for this supposed James to know where to stop.

 

Because this felt real right from the start and Q wanted to be sure that he wasn’t someone in a very good mask – which didn’t seem to be the case as the ‘maybe James’ realized what was going through Q’s mind and starting to tug on his face. However, Spectre could easily teach someone to carry himself like James given the many hours of surveillance they had thanks to Blofeld’s obsession with his stepbrother and then have them go through plastic surgery, so he signalled the man closer to him.

 

Proving once again that he knew what Q wanted, James leaned his face closer to his, holding his hands above his head, palms forward. “I’ll track each and every one of them down and take my sweet time killing them,” he murmured, visibly relaxing when Q started to trace each wrinkle and crease on his face.

 

Q also relaxed now that he was sure that he was dealing with the real James and put the IV stand back down on the ground, leaning against it. “Don’t be like them, James. Kill them swiftly.”

 

“Can I at least move slow enough for them to know that they’re going to die?” James asked as he put one of his arms under Q’s armpit and the other around his middle. “Weapon and method of your choice, of course.”

 

He tried to start walking towards the bed, but Q wouldn’t budge. “I can see the doctor and the door, but I can’t see you; I see only darkness.”

 

“I was assured – and I’m inclined to believe that since I made three doctors and five nurses cry and I’m also not allowed in Switzerland for about an year – that they tried their best, but your right eyes was the one thing they couldn’t save,” James whispered in his ear and hugged Q tightly. “I can move to your other side—”

 

“I trust you fully to be in my blind spot,” Q said without missing a beat, flinching at the pain that show down his throat and straight into his heart, James tensing by his side. “Water,” he croaked, needing a moment to realize that he was now sitting on the bed and that James was holding a glass of cold water to his lips. And, by God, that was the best glass of water he had ever had!

 

James sat on the bed next to him and pulled the blanket over his legs before starting to gently rub his back. “Nice and slow, Q. You can drink as much water as you want.”

 

“Actually, he can only have two glasses of water tops right now and only because we need another sample of his urine to make sure that all the drugs in his system are out,” the doctor everyone forgot said in a slightly trembling voice.

 

“You can drink one more glass for now, so you should drink it slowly and enjoy it for as long as you can,” James corrected himself, resting his chin against Q’s shoulder as he filled his glass again. “How creeped out would you be if I made a necklace out of right eyes for you?”

 

Q chocked, regretting that he didn’t turn his head in time to spit the water on James. “Very,” he wheezed out. “Can you wait to be overly creepy until after I’m done with the water? I kind of forgot that it wasn’t supposed to taste like dirt or chemicals that made the world tilt and change colours.” Realizing what he had said in front of James and wishing to pre-empt a fit of rage, Q quickly grabbed on to his hand. “Were you talking about my cats the first time I woke up, or was that a dream?”

 

James seemed to think really hard about his next mode before all the tension in his shoulders left and helped Q lie back down, proving how good he was at pretending to be calm because no one expected him to throw the empty glass of water against a wall before focusing on tucking Q in. “Oh yes, they are most cross with me for not taking them to their beloved master and I think all of your minions that are banned from coming to see you because they sneezed want to spare my suits, but shred me.”

 

It was easy for Q to go back to sleep without the fear of horrendous nightmares when James talked with him and from that point on, the man turned into an extension of himself. Not that the others didn’t do their very best to spend as much time with him as possible.

 

R always greeted him midday with freshly cried out eyes, a huge smile, and cups of tea done just as he liked it and Eve always walked in after R with flowers and short books that she thought he might like. The bulk of his minions that he only considered to be pleasant acquaintances also filed in one after another once a week to bring him either flowers or technology themed sweets that he wasn’t quite allowed to eat for which he always thanked and then made them take back. Next where the minions that were his friends and they came with more things he couldn’t eat or drink but also with pictures of ancient machines that were waiting for him back in his office to play with as he wished as soon as he got better.

 

The double oh agents acted the age Q saw them as, and decided to make a competition out of getting him to smile at them and pat their heads. They didn’t visit him every day like all the others, but they made sure to stop by his room first and brag about how well their mission went, which was kind of amusing because in some cases, doctors were stitching them up while the agents were lying their asses off about how no shots were fired and no one was hurt. They also brought Q little trinkets and multi-coloured shirts and pants that fit him perfectly, looking almost offended that he always looked surprised that they fitted him.

 

Alec Trevelyan, however, was an entirely different story. Having recently finished a hard mission, he was in his downtime and thus, able to visit him every day. But he didn’t bring him sweets, or tea, or clothes, or little trinkets from oversea that were only pretty to look at and collect. No, no. Alec snuck in _things_ for him to fix. Little things, true, that only required about five minutes of his attention and the small toolbox that perfectly fit in Alec’s pocket, but that was one of the things that made Q’s day.

 

And then there was James Bond. The agent spent more time with him than anyone else and while the nurses and doctors were quick to usher everyone out of his room when the visiting hours were over, James was spared the ‘kicking out speech’ and that was fitting, given the fact that the man never seemed to actually be visiting.

 

Originally, Q assumed that James was also hospitalized, but a nurse assured him that wasn’t the case. Then he went on to presume that James had been appointed as his new bodyguard and he brought it up the next time he saw Eve after getting this idea, the woman barely holding back a smile as she informed him that James was currently suspended for many, many reasons.

 

Guilt would have been the next logical step, but James Bond wasn’t the type of agent who’d openly display guilt to someone that was still alive, so Q figured that boredom mixed with a bit of paranoia was what kept James by his side. Though he was quite baffled by the fact that James seemed to always be by his side, despite his room only having one bed.

 

He woke up drenched in sweat, heart beating a mile a minute from a horrible nightmare that threatened to bleed into reality? James was in his literal blind spot with a fresh pair of pyjamas and a new story about his cats or his minions which were always accompanied by either pictures or videos of the incidents to help him get past the moment.

 

He miscalculated where a table or chair was because his depth perception had been shot to hell? James was right there to catch whatever was falling – Q included – and continue to act like nothing was out of the ordinary by teasing him about how red the tips of his ears got when he was embarrassed or how much greener and brighter his eye became when he was angry.

 

James even offered to help with Q’s sponge baths, only to be dragged out of the room by a laughing Alec and under the judgemental glare of Eve. That day turned out to be a very embarrassing one for Q because of course that would be the same day 009 decided to pay him a visit and of course he got in a verbal tiff with James right outside the room. And just as Q opened the door to tell them to stop, M made his presence known by really loudly berating the two double oh agents for fighting over as something as ridiculous as who would be the best sponge bath giver, only to turn to Q and ask if he was done with his bath yet or if he should come back later to have a chat with him.

 

That resulted in Q having to scold the two like they were children, 009 profusely apologizing and promising to never do anything to embarrass him again while James just silently glared at a wall because he didn’t _do_ apologizes – at least not verbal ones. James’ actual apology came later that night in the form of two cat plushies that he claimed to have randomly seen in a store window, but that looked so much like Q’s actual cats that they _had_ be have been custom made and since he looked and acted like he was genuinely sad that he had embarrassed him in front of their boss, all was forgiven.

 

But three weeks in his medical stay, everything had become suffocating, Q having an extra time accepting that he wasn’t let out of the spacious room with a TV and large windows that only opened a crack for his own good. He wanted to feel the ground beneath his feet when the sun washed over his face. He wanted to smell the petrichor while holding his umbrella. He wanted to actually pet, hug, and kiss his own bloody pets instead of watching James do it on his behalf. He wanted to sleep in his own bed, read his own books – or books that he personally bought, given the fact that his will had already been executed and he had yet to meet with his lawyer or bring this subject up to the people that got his things – and most importantly, he wanted to be allowed to do something that involved coding because he was feeling useless and powerless and that drove him insane.

 

James wasn’t the first to catch on to his annoyance but he was the first to do something in an attempt to make things better, shocking Q to the core when walked in his line of sight carrying a cup of tea bought from the much talked about, but never personally seen new vending machine on the hospital’s first floor and a trench coat draped over his arm despite already wearing one, in the early morning of day eight of his hospital, whispering about how he had come up with a plan of smuggling him out of there for a few hours.

 

Q was practically bursting at the seams with excitement, bolding towards the door only to be stopped by James just as he was about to go through it and redirected towards the bed. “The deal that I may or may not have made with someone that might or might not be the chief physician was that I get you in actual clothes and shoes before we leave your room. Especially since it’s raining outside.”

 

“Well, we are in London and I do have a theory that the city itself would turn into ash if the day didn’t start with rain,” Q joked for the first time in what felt like a million years, confused by the pure happiness that filled James’ eyes. “I don’t suppose you also managed to sneak in my cats?” He genuinely asked and started to change, his little smile disappearing when he turned to look at James and noticed that the man was with his back at him.

 

By the time someone became a double oh agent, all their sense of privacy when it came to their own bodies and those of their colleagues disappeared completely. Not to mention that even though double oh agents had their own changing rooms, they preferred to use the ones the boffins did because of the fluffy carpeting, nice smell – it was a custom scent that a few of the boffins came up with and Q was more than happy to blackmail M into finding the budget for it – and the free vending machines. So for James to turn his back to Q when he was changing, especially since he had once tried to defuse the tense situation by pretending to count all the spots he saw all over his body – which weren’t there – was beyond disappointing.

 

Yes, Q had half of his body covered in gauze and yes, some wounds were left uncovered because they had passed that part of the healing process, but they weren’t disgusting. Or maybe Q just thought they weren’t?

 

“Q, are you still with me? I threatened to give all your clothes that are a crime to fashion to your living shredders for a change and you didn’t say anything yet,” James said, jolting Q out of his thoughts.

 

“Yes, yes,” Q said quickly, finishing putting on his socks. “Do my wounds make people queasy?”

 

That had James turn around so fast that it was a miracle that every bone in his body didn’t crack. “No,” he said quickly, kneeling in front of Q. “It’s disgusting what they did to you and I still want to carve their bodies before killing them, but you’re the cutest mummy I have ever seen.” He caught Q’s leg before it could connect to his side, chuckling. “Okay, fine. You’re a grown mummy, so calling you cute isn’t right.”

 

“I’m not a mummy, Bond.”

 

“Well, you are your cats’ mummy,” James argued, catching Q’s other leg and pushing him on his back so he could get the man’s pants on. “And now you’re going to be a bundled up mummy in your favourite, mustard covered cardigan.” He was moving so fast that he had Q back on his feet even before he realized that he had been on his back.

 

A pity Q could never really pick on what James’ was wearing but one day, the man would make a fashion mistake and he would be there to point it out and laugh. “It’s a perfectly decent colour and I’ll have you know that I had many people walking up to me and asking me where I bought it from.”

 

“Probably because they wanted to stay away from the store,” James murmured, not deterred at all from his buttoning up by Q slapping his chest. “Anyway, the cardigan will be covered by the coat because not only is it raining and slightly chilly, but I’m also talking you to the misnamed Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens and you know half of MI6 likes to waste their time there no matter the hour and if M, or R, Eve, or even that blabbermouth of 009 find out that I took you out without an official blessing, I’m done for.”

 

Hearing that, Q started to rethink this whole idea. Maybe he really shouldn’t go out until the doctors officially let him and he did have a nice view. Alec could probably find a way to open the bloody window enough for him to fully enjoy the air and he was sure that he looked pathetic enough for something like that to be forgiven, so James risking his future with MI6 was not needed. Yes, this little outing was not really needed, he decided and he made to tell James that, but the man quickly wrapped a huge, soft shawl around his neck and mouth and then threw the coat over his frame, grabbing his hand and tugging him out of the room before Q could get his bearings back and try to talk him out of everything.

 

But Q’s annoyance was soon forgotten as the actual sneaking out seemed to be more of a farce rather than an actual problem. The cameras stopped mid-sweep just when they were walking in their area of effect and James was extremely funny when he peeked around corners, cleared his throat, and then tiptoed behind the nurses and doctors that suddenly found themselves compelled to turn with their back towards them and really look at either the wall, or their phones. James even stopped at the security office where a doctor was waiting for them to temporarily sign Q out while explaining to the security guard what it meant for a patient to do that.

 

“You left Eve and R out of what’s clearly a department-wide misconduct? Are you mad?” Q asked just as they were about to leave the building, James’ joking answer falling on deaf ears as soon as he set a foot outside and he tilted his head back to better feel the droplets of rain fall on his face. “I’ll keep you safe from them, don’t worry,” he murmured, feeling almost overwhelmed by his need to hug James tightly and kiss him as gratitude for what he did.

 

James moved closer to him and wrapped his arm around his middle, holding his other hand up as he opened an umbrella. “I’m the one who’s supposed to protect you and I know I did a horrible job until now, but I won’t even let you get so much as a papercut from now on,” James promised, giving Q the umbrella for a moment to gently wipe his face and to make sure that he was properly bundled up.

 

“Even you can’t protect me from germs,” Q teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

 

“Don’t challenge me, Q; I will put you in a bubble and push you around to make sure you never get sick,” James teased back, worrying Q a little with how determined he looked. “I’m kidding,” he hurried to say.

 

“I’m not entirely sure you are,” Q said carefully, pulling away from James a little. “Maybe I’ll talk with M about getting 009 as a bodyguard.”

 

James’ face fell. “You wouldn’t.”

 

“I would,” Q deadpanned, narrowing his eyes. “In fact, I think I’ll call M right now,” he continued slipping his hand in James’ jacket pocket to fish around for his phone, only then becoming aware of how well the man smelled and how comfortable it was to be around.

 

He tried to tell himself to not go back _there_ with his thoughts, but it became harder to do that when James tugged him closer and rested his forehead against his left side of his temple, his lips brushing against his ear when he spoke. “Would you reconsider dragging that goody two-shoes into this if I just hover around you and scare the sick people away from you?”

 

In Q’s opinion, James’ ability to make others yearn for his companionship and attention was what made his a terrific spy. “I might reconsider if it’s just that,” Q whispered, letting out a shaky sigh when James hugged him tighter. “I need to find an apartment.”

 

Those words broke both the spell they seemed to be under and the hug. “Let’s stop wasting time and go to the park before the drizzle turns into a storm.” James slipped his arm around his middle again as he said and took the umbrella back, but because he had moved into Q’s blind spot, his face was a mystery.

 

The awkwardness of their silence didn’t last long though and without really realizing it, Q rested his head against James’ shoulder and closed his eye, fully trusting that he wouldn’t trip over anything or anyone and that he wouldn’t walk into pole, tree, or person. And when they finally reached the park and Q felt the smell of wet freshly cut grass, the little tenseness that he still had in his shoulders disappearing completely.

 

James led him to a tarp covered bench in a secluded spot and if Q had been brought here by anyone else _but_ him, he would have zapped them until they passed out and then called MI5 and MI6 to get him the hell out of there. But since he was sure that his current company was dangerous to his enemies, Q gingerly sat down and greeted Alec with a smile rather than surprise when he stepped out of the bushes.

 

“Just how many people did you scare by pretending to be a wild animal?” Q joked, holding his hands in the air until Alec was done wrapping a blanket around him.

 

Alec tilted his head and shrugged. “Lost count after the first five.” He pulled out a large umbrella from the bushes, grinning when Q tried to bite back a chortle. “Think of me as your Quartermaster, Q, and of yourself as the agent and right now.”

 

Q hummed, moving closer to James because shared body heat was a lot more pleasant. “Oh, I see. You’re just making sure that I’m properly dressed up and a picnic in the rain is impossible without an umbrella.”

 

Alec nodded, quite proud of himself. “I’m also seriously thinking about becoming an even planner and what better way to train than to create the perfect—”

 

“Thank you,” James interrupted him, throw his arm around Q’s shoulders. “You can stop talking now and go do the other thing.”

 

Alec frowned and lowered his head for a moment, his brows knitting together as he was clearly in deep thought. Q rushed to dig through James’ pockets because this was probably the rarest thing he’d ever come across, but by the time he managed to actually find it, Alec’s thinking pose had been abandoned and the man cleared his throat before resting his hand on his chest, suddenly letting out a scream that sounded like it was a lyric of some sort. He actually reminded Q of his cats when they were in heat.

 

“That’s not what I was talking about,” James snapped, brushing his fingers against Q’s shoulder and probably glaring at Alec until he remembered what the original plan was and started to slowly back into the bush. “I’ll be shocked if I won’t have to go to a police station with M to bail him out before the day ends.”

 

“Same,” Q admitted, worrying his lower lip for a moment before deciding to rest his head in the crook of James’ neck, holding his breath until fingers on his shoulder resumed their shooting movement. “I’m feeling good enough to hear whatever bad news you have for me.”

 

“I over-steep tea,” James started to whisper in Q’s ear. “And it’s the tea you left behind in your apartment that I’m using even though I still drink only coffee.”

 

Q clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to look at him. “Stop dancing around whatever white elephant is in the room, James. I am aware that broke pretty much all the MI6 rules and that I abandoned my post which led—”

 

“When I was informed about your death, I felt that everything good in the world had disappeared,” James interrupted, the fragility of his voice taking Q aback. “I felt like the lowest of the low because I left when you needed me the most and that ended in your supposed death. But the blows continued to come after that, what with you trusting me to be your pallbearer and with you leaving me your apartment because you _know_ me.”

 

“That wasn’t my intention,” Q said softly, lightly patting his hand. “I wanted you to have a place to come back to after the world was right again.”

 

James clicked his tongue and grabbed Q’s hand, squeezing it. “The world could have never been right again if you were really dead!” He raised his voice a little, running his other hand down Q’s ear and face once he realized it in an apologetic manner. “And yet you still trust me to protect you and to be there for you. After everything’s said and done,  you don’t jump when you hear me talking out of the blue, you don’t ask me to move where you can see me like you do everyone else and I promise you that the last thing I’ll do is give you the moon just because I’m trying to make you feel better before giving you some sort of horrible news.”

 

Hearing that made Q smile for a moment before his hyperactive mind decided to focus on another bad thing and brought the tension back in his shoulders. “You know that I don’t hold anything against you for needing downtime after everything that you went through after Spectre, right?”

 

“I failed you as an elite agent, as a human, as a f—”

 

“You didn’t,” Q interrupted him, getting annoyed. He knew how to deal with a drunk James, he knew what to do when his latest love interest proved to be an assassin, and taking care of a James Bond that permitted the ignored depression to take over him was a synch. But facing a James that not only felt guilt, but also openly showed it, Q was in uncharted territory and if there was anything he hated more than any type of pain, then that was not knowing what to do to fix things. “You brought down the head of a multi-national terrorist organization that was bent on ruling the world from the shadows while also finding out that pretty much every bad thing in your life happened because of him, so you _needed_ that ride in the sunset with normality and we all understand. I don’t hold anything against you. I don’t blame you for what happened because I was the one who didn’t ask for help. I was the one who walked into that obvious trap.”

 

James let a single second pass before he opened his mouth again, but Q was done hearing dumb things for one day and did the first thing that crossed his mind to stop him – he kissed him. Or rather, he turned around with the intent of locking their lips together and ending up bumping his forehead against James’ nose and giving his chin an open mouth kiss due to his lack of depth perception.

 

He silently cursed himself and made to get up, but James pulled him back and wrapped his arms around his middle, slowly rubbing their noses together. “If you simply ask me to stop talking, I’ll do that. Just as I will stop before kissing you if you ask me.” Q pulled back a little and James jumped away as if he were made out of lava, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact. “I did not mean to overstep my boundaries, Quartermaster,” he quickly started to say. “I have clearly read the moment wrong and acted on instinct and cockiness instead of logic.”

 

“Well, I started it, but since it seems that you wouldn’t be opposed to what I started, we should talk before we do anything else.” Q said, grabbing James’ sleeve and tugging him back down on the bench next to him. “Where would this,” he motioned between them, “go?”

 

“Into the sunset,” James answered without missing a beat, causing Q to snort and cover half of his face with the blanket in order to hide his smile. “Or wherever you want it to go. I am a double oh, after all, so if you don’t want anything other than a quick…” He trailed off, his throat drying up the more offended Q looked. “What I meant to say is that I can play the role of your lo—”

 

“Let’s forget the last ten minutes,” Q muttered, forcing a smile as he ran his finger up as his nose like he was trying to push the glasses he didn’t have on back into place, something he always did when he was feeling annoyed with something or someone. “Let’s also forget that you are an agent and that I’m the Quartermaster before trying to talk again.”

 

James nodded and held out his hand. “The name’s Bond. James Bond. I’m an importer-exporter of this and that and I couldn’t help ogling you being cocooned on this bench all by yourself which led me to wondering if you wouldn’t mind me ogling you from across a table in a fancy restaurant for a couple of hours before ogling you on your sofa after many hours of fun?”

 

Q blinked slowly, very tempted to start cleaning his ears right then and there because there was no way that James had actually said what he thought he heard. “Firstly, you do realize we’d use one of the two beds in the apartment, right? And secondly, how did MI6 not have to bail you out of jail by now for being a lame creep?”

 

“To be fair, I’m only this lame sprinkled with just a tad of pathetic and this much of a creep when I’m trying to pick you up because you already know all my moves and I wouldn’t want to insult you by treating you like a target,” James answered honestly, his smile becoming strained. “Given that you weren’t drinking anything when I turned on the creep to eleven, can we do the whole erasing of the last few minutes again?”

 

Q chuckled, resting his head against James’ chest and putting one of his arms around his shoulders. “Go for sappy instead of creepy; it makes you a lot more endearing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love and food for the muse.


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